


Dark ‘n’ Smoky

by winter_angst



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Bars and Pubs, First Kiss, M/M, Misunderstandings, Undercover Missions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:34:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22321900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winter_angst/pseuds/winter_angst
Summary: Brock and Jack’s first kiss
Relationships: Jack Rollins/Brock Rumlow
Comments: 1
Kudos: 21





	Dark ‘n’ Smoky

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kalika999 (kalika_999)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalika_999/gifts).



> Just a lil drabble for a good friendo who I love bunches!

As far an operations went, Rumlow could confidently say the scales could tip in either direction and that was not something he liked. It was a small team of four plus Hydra’s greatest weapon who, recently thawed, always seemed ill-suited for undercover work. 

Metal arm aside.

He and Rollins had bickered and gone over the city maps day in and day out. Extraction was coming closer and Brock still didn’t have a confirmed plan of attack. Jack had trailed the target for a bit but hadn’t found a pattern and if he couldn’t do it, Brock seriously doubted anyone else on the team could. They were all competent and handpicked by his own hand but this assassination had more riding on it than even he understood. The intensity of Pierce’s stare when he reiterated the importance of it being a clean kill kept him up at night and made him shake his head at every suggestion offered.

“You ain’t got shit Brock.” Jack finally seethed when he got sick of Brock brushing aside his pleas to slit his throat while he slept. “One of us goes in, we’ll be fine.”

“He lives in the most populated building in the city, Rollins. You don’t think they’ve got cameras?” Jack was a genius and Brock was grateful to have him on his team but he could be a goddamn idiot. “Do your fucking job and let me do mine.”

“My job is making sure the job gets done if you ain’t doing it.” Jack spit back. “Sitting back and hopin’ the job falls in your lap isn’t gonna work.”

Tann and Baker were both doing an excellent job pretending they weren’t listening but the cramped living quarters didn’t afford much privacy. Regardless Brock wasn’t about to have his authority questioned. He rose to his feet, sick to death of the four walls of his failure and tactical concerns and glared down at Rollins who had the audacity to look annoyed rather than fearful. The strong line of jaw twitched like he was aching to say something else and Brock wanted to beg him to. 

‘Try me, fucker’ he thought as stared down at Jack. 

The scar that ran from his chin to his lip paled further as Rollins sneered down at him but not a word passed his lips. Brock tucked back his aggression and pushed his chest out. Really it was a hollow victory as Jack acted like they were evenly matched but sparring had exposed that Jack was quicker than him. Brock shoved a chair out of the way and paced the small bit of floor space between the table and counter. 

“Observation shows the target goes to Собака Saturday evenings between twenty two hundred to oh four hundred. Low traffic flow and no surveillance. Target can be neutralized outside of the building.”

Brock turned sharply on heel. He almost forgot the Soldier was there and he was frankly alarmed he had so much intel. “And how the fuck do you know that?”

“Perimeter checks. You did not specify the perimeter to check.” 

Brock was rendered speechless by the sheer operational loophole. He always admired the way the Soldier worked, how it could be brought to heel with a single word. Imagining it thinking for itself made Brock shudder. It was more aware than it made itself seem. Despite the tensions moments ago Jack and Brock exchanged eye contact. They did not doubt the intel nor the Soldier’s battle plan but scouting it out themselves ahead of time would have been preferential. 

“And how long have you sat on that information?” Brock demanded.

“You never asked.” The Soldier paused long enough to make it obviously purposeful. “Commander.”

Brock’s fingers twitched toward the stun baton on the table. He wasn’t a fan of the coward’s approach to punishment — if the Soldier needed correcting it would be his hand that did it — but he suppressed the urge. 

“And what is this place, Soldier?”

“It appears to be a bar, Commander.”

Brock figured a drink wouldn’t hurt. 

•• •• •• ••

At nine thirty they went to Собака, a dingy place that was surprisingly busy for being in the slums of the city. 

Slipping past packed bodies, Brock leaned toward Jack. “We’ll sit by the door.” He pressed the ear piece, “Comm checks?”

From the corner of his eye he saw Baker adjust her hair and tilt her face just so. “Confirmed.”

He didn’t see Tann but heard the gravelly, “Confirmed.”

Baker had scouted it the night before briefly and drawn up a blueprint. It was open which gave good visuals but also risked exposure. The Soldier was with Tann in the back. The plan to maintain visuals and when he left at the oh four hundred mark take him out in the alley to the side beside a run down brick building. There was good coverage because the street light was out. Frankly, Brock was shocked a rat in hiding would come here but it was a good spot to avoid detection due to the sheer population.

The night was long, the music shitty and in a language that Brock couldn’t understand with the weird techno beat. It was almost stifling with amount of people but when Jack lifted his beer to his lips and said, “Here.” Brock knew it was worth it.

Undercover was different from a firefight. There was no rush of adrenaline, just a steady buzz of nerves keeping him on edge. He had to blend without hiding. He was just a guy getting a drink with his buddy on Saturday night. 

Plus it was a great excuse to drink on an op. Every hour there was a check in assuring the target was still in sight. Brock ordered his second beer and cast a casual look around. It was dimly lit but he didn’t notice anyone shifty around them. Good. Brock liked to be only threat in the room.

“Your beer. And a Dark ‘N’ Smoky.” The bartender was young and stocky but spoke English which was a godsend. “Courtesy of Dusty. Enjoy.”

Dusty was not the target’s name but that didn’t mean Brock’s heart didn’t skip a beat. He mustered a smirk for the bartender who moved on to some guy down the line hollering for more shots. “Dark N Smoky.” Brock muttered and Jack snorted. “It’s not funny asshole. Someone noticed us.”

“Someone noticed you,” corrected Jack. “Target?”

“In sight.” Tann reported tersely. “No contact with the bartender or anyone who’s gone to the bar.”

Brock tried to let his paranoia rest. “The fuck is this anyway? Kind of a fruity drink to send a guy.” Brock stirred the straw, watching the light liquid blend smoothly into the syrupy ginger beer. “Do I drink it?”

“You aren’t here to get pussy, Brock.” Jack sounded annoyed. “No attention.”

“This is why you don’t get laid,” Brock accused but really he didn’t know much about the stoic man’s endeavors outside of work. It was best that way. “I’ll return it.”

“Eleven o’clock,” Jack muttered suddenly. “Not the target.”

Brock’s hand slipped toward his side arm as the dark haired guy leaned far too close. 

“You get my drink?” 

His accent was thick, obviously native but his cologne was equally thick and Brock was choking on it. “What?” Brock asked, cheeks already tinged pink.

“I send you drink. Pretty American, nice hair, eyes, body.” The man reached up to touch his hair and Brock swatted him away.

This was a complication that was going to fuck them over. Also, why the hell were men sending him drinks? 

“Ah, feisty American. My favorite. Let me show you city — places tourists don’t get to see.”

“Sorry buddy,” Jack cut in, startling Brock with an arm around his waist. “He’s taken.”

“You don’t touch him all night. Pretty American deserves real man. Come, I show you.”

Brock found himself half off the stool and onto Jack’s lap. Their earpieces whined at the closeness but neither man batted an eye, too absorbed in what was happening. “I said he’s mine. Back off buddy.”

Then — holy fuck. Jack was kissing him. It was violent and sloppy, their teeth clicking together and their tongues fighting for dominance. The man grumbled a bit and then left but Jack didn’t let go immediately. The kisses turned a bit softer, his thumb stroking his jaw lovingly. Then, when Brock was dizzy with lack of air and confusion, Jack slowly untangled himself and winked. 

“Close one, huh?”

Brock’s daze faded into cold embarrassment and anger. Of course Jack wasn’t kissing him for real and — Brock hadn’t really enjoyed it, he hadn’t! But he had and now he was hurt that it was fake which was stupid and heartbreaking and everything that Brock didn’t have time for right now. 

“Status?” He finally rasped, unsure of how much time had passed in Jack’s arms.

“The Soldier eliminated the target five minutes ago — where are you two?”

Jack shrugged with a little half smile that left Brock confused. “On our way.” 

Brock tried to ignore the eager half erection pressing against his jeans and he threw back the gifted drink and swore he’d put tonight out of mind. 

There was no way it was real anyway. Still Brock filed it away as their very first kiss.


End file.
